As part of his literature study of 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, T was instructed to write a short sea-themed story. Here it is:
“Ah!”
Gabriel Victor, a man in his early thirties, inhaled the salty smell of the sea.
Turning to his class, he said: “Students, you’re in for a big treat. Being on a ship is like nothing you will ever do, or have ever done. Or is it the other way around?”
Victor stood there for a moment, deep in thought.
“Uh, Professor Victor?”
“Huh?” Professor Victor snapped out of his thoughts. “Oh. What is it, Martha?”
Martha, a plain looking girl of nineteen, who had red hair, and green eyes, said: “Exactly how long will this trip be, again?”
“Our trek across the Atlantic Ocean will take two weeks,” Victor said.
“Are you sure it’s safe?” Dustin asked. Dustin, a medium-height, medium-weight boy of eighteen, had blonde hair and brown eyes. Dustin– who was nicknamed “The Human Dictionary” because of the many fancy words he used– was terrified of the water.
“This has to be the twentieth time you’ve asked that question, Dustin,” Professor Victor said. “Relax. We’ll be fine. It’s not like a sea monster’s going to attack us.”
The words didn’t relax Dustin. Instead, it made him even more uneasy.
“Come along, class,” the professor said. The science class of Fireball University followed their professor, discussing what they learned about the ocean and sea voyage amongst themselves.
Soon, Professor Victor stopped.
“Gabriel!”
“Houston!”
Professor and a burly sailor with rugged brown hair and a beard hugged briefly.
“Class,” Victor said, “I want you to meet Houston Hunt, a friend of mine from college. He’s first mate on the Abraham Lincoln, and will help us hunt undersea wonders.”
“Whoa!” Everett, the math whiz, said. His blue eyes had gotten wide. “Did you say undersea? I thought you said we would be on a ship.”
“We are, Everett,” Professor Victor assured him. “The Abraham Lincoln is indeed a ship; it’s just one that goes underwater, instead of above it.”
“We’re going in a submarine?” Dustin screamed. Then he fainted. It took two students to keep him from falling on the pier.
“We’ll give him his sealegs before long,” Hunt chuckled. “C’mon. I don’t think these landlubbers want to miss their opportunity to see the finest submarine ever created.”
First Mate Hunt led the class down the pier. (Dustin was being dragged behind, but seemed close to regaining consciousness.) Hunt finally stopped at the end.
The class crowded to see the Abraham Lincoln. The submarine was nothing special, but still was awe-inspiring. It was at least forty feet in length, and the entrance was open. Hunt jumped onto the submarine, swung down into the hole, and disappeared. One by one, the class class did the same, although they climbed down (or, in Dustin’s case, was pulled down) the hole. Professor Victor, being the last to climb in, closed the hatch, which Hunt locked.
“Follow me to your cabins,” Hunt said. Hunt and the class made their way through the twists and turns of the Abraham Lincoln.
“Here we are,” Hunt said after a few minutes. “Make yourselves at home.”
The students chose their cabins, put their bags in them, and came back out.
“I think it’s fair that I tell you that these cabins were originally made for any prisoners we happened to capture,” Hunt said. Looking at the stunned faces of the class, Hunt shrugged and said: “That’s the way Captain Nemo wanted it.”
“Nemo?” Christina, an exchange student from Mexico, asked, looking puzzled. “You mean like the one from ‘Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea’?”
“Exactly,” Professor Victor answered. “Glad to see your reading’s been keeping up with you. Or is it the other way around?”
Once again, Professor Victor stood where he was, deep in thought.
“Uh, Professor?”
“Huh? Oh! Yes, Jules?”
Jules, the valedictorian, asked: “Will we be able to hunt oysters as you promised?”
Before Victor could say anything, Hunt cut in: “Actually, you won’t find a lot of oysters where we’re going. You’ll be hunting icebergs instead.”
“I thought were going straight across the Atlantic, not toward the Arctic,” Professor Victor said.
“Change of plans.”
Everyone turned around to see a stern, short man of about forty-five. Despite his being shorter than anyone else, power seemed to radiate from him, which made up the height deficiancy.
“Ahoy, Captain Nemo,” Hunt said, saluting. Relunctantly, everyone followed suit.
“What did you mean when you said that the plans had been changed?” Professor Victor asked.
“Precisely that, professor,” Captain Nemo replied. “We are setting sail toward the Arctic Ocean. With this ship, we should easily lay a trap for the Nautilus.
Everett started to protest, but a fierce glare from the captain made him cringe, and kept him silent.
Nemo turned and stomped off without another word.
“Is it just me, or does he give you the creeps?” Dustin asked.
“Captain Nemo has gone a little crazy,” Hunt said silently